


do it all again (live it over)

by shineyma



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s01e21 Ragtag, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23245336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shineyma/pseuds/shineyma
Summary: Jemma's been here before.
Relationships: Jemma Simmons/Grant Ward
Comments: 22
Kudos: 134





	do it all again (live it over)

**Author's Note:**

> Week TWELVE, y'all! And with this, I have officially posted twice as many fics in the last three months as I did in ALL of 2019!! *confetti*
> 
> Thanks very much to everyone for your comments, kudos, and bookmarks--they mean SO MUCH and I really appreciate the support! Especially on last week's fic, which I really did hate. Your kind words helped a lot. <3
> 
> Thanks for reading and, as always, please be gentle if you review! Here's to another forty fics! <3 <3

“As long as you cooperate, no one’s gonna—” Grant pauses. “I’m sorry, Simmons, am I _boring_ you?”

Unlike Fitz, whose terrified eyes remained fixed on him until Grant had him dragged out to the car, Simmons hasn’t looked at him once since he walked in. He _was_ assuming she was just too scared and/or angry for eye contact, but she’s progressed from scowling at the ground to examining her nails. Three seconds ago, halfway through the standard Hydra line of work-or-die, she actually _sighed_.

She looks like she’s getting another of Coulson’s _no mad science on the Bus_ lectures, not being held hostage.

Frankly, it’s fucking insulting.

The question’s finally drawn her eyes to him, however. She frowns.

“Honestly,” she says, “yes.”

Well, she’s got nerve, he’ll give her that. Behind her, Hydra grunt #7 (Grant can’t be bothered with their names; they’re all just cannon fodder, anyway) aims an incredulous look at her back and then raises his eyebrows at Grant in a silent _should I shoot her for that?_

He shakes his head. Grunt #7 looks disappointed.

“Really,” he says, returning his attention to Simmons.

“It’s a very intimidating speech,” she offers, tone halfway between apologetic and condescending. It’s so _Simmons_ that he has to bite back a smile. “It’s just that I’ve heard it before.”

…She’s what? He takes a quick flip through his mental copy of her file; he’s pretty sure Simmons has never been involved in a hostage situation before. Before the Bus, she rarely left the safety of a SHIELD lab, and when she did, it was with a phalanx of well-armed guards. There were no incidents pre-Bus and nothing hostage-wise for her _on_ the Bus…except maybe at the Hub? He never got the whole story of what went down there, just that Trip got real damn close to shooting Hand.

“Yeah?” he asks. “Who from?”

She shrugs. “You.”

…Yeah, he’s got nothing. Aside from some strictly physical intimidation under the berserker staff’s influence—and even that was just looming—this is the first time he’s ever threatened her.

“And where was I when that happened?” he asks.

“I’m sorry,” she says, shaking her head. “What I should have said is, we’ve done this before.”

That explains…absolutely nothing.

“No, we haven’t,” he says. Because seriously. They haven’t.

“Yes, we have,” she insists. “You promise we won’t be harmed so long as we’re cooperative, except Garrett orders you to kill us anyway because he believes that you’re attached to us and it’s a weakness. Which is just absurd, really—killing two of the brightest scientific minds on the _planet_ solely to prove a point?” She scoffs. “It’s no wonder he’ll be dead within the week. That man is a moron.”

What the hell is she talking about? “What the hell are you talking about?”

If she expects him to believe that she’s developed psychic powers or something in the last week…

Simmons sighs heavily, looking suddenly miserable. “I’m caught in a time loop.”

“You’re—” He laughs. “Yeah, sure. What’s going on here, Simmons?”

“Really?” she demands. “A time loop strains your credulity? You were put under _mind control_ by an _alien_ a few weeks ago.”

Okay, fair. The word impossible has been kinda stretched to its limits lately. But, still.

“You gotta admit,” he says, “it’s a hell of a claim. I’m gonna need more than that to buy it.”

“Fine.” She crosses her arms. “Garrett made you kill your dog.”

Grant’s heart stutters in his chest.

He’s never told anyone about that.

“His name was Buddy,” she continues, shaving at least a few years off of Grant’s life. What—How—“He was your only company—aside from the occasional visit from Garrett—when you spent five years in the woods. You were attached to him and Garrett called it a weakness, so he had you kill him before you started at the Academy.”

“How do you know about that?” he demands. The tone is dark enough to make the grunt behind her recoil, but Simmons barely blinks.

“You told us,” she says. “Or will tell us. While Garrett is busy being stomped into _paste_ by poor Agent Peterson, you will get utterly crushed by May and then taken into custody. You’ll spend a good eight months playing at remorse, attempting to explain away your numerous crimes as being the fault of literally anyone but yourself. In addition to Garrett, you also blame your parents and your brother.”

Grant stares, totally lost for words.

“You also attempt suicide,” she adds. “Which was just inconsiderate of you, really. I ruined my favorite shirt saving your life.”

“You…”

She tsks. “And you never even said thank you.”

Grant’s head is reeling. Simmons knowing about his parents and Christian, he gets—he told Skye, after all, and since she made it pretty clear she considers him the enemy, he wasn’t expecting her to keep his secrets anymore.

But Buddy? He’s never told _anyone_ about Buddy.

What the fuck.

“And then,” he says, pulling his scattered thoughts together, “after those eight months, you—traveled back in time?”

“No,” she says, scowling, “after those eight months, things got worse. Several months after _that_ , I traveled back in time.”

“To today?” he asks. “Which you’re, what, living over and over?”

She nods tragically.

Grant mulls that over for a few seconds, weighing the possibilities. If she really _has_ traveled back in time—he’s not totally sold, but he’s willing to consider it—then she has no end of potentially valuable intel. Especially that _things got worse_ bit: for a ride-or-die SHIELD agent like Simmons, things getting worse probably means success for Hydra. If he can get her to share, he can use that.

Okay. Yeah. He can work with this.

He looks past her to grunt #7 and jerks his head. “Go to the Bus, tell Garrett I’m gonna be a while working on her.”

Of course, he says it in Spanish. Simmons’ll be able to guess he’s talking about her and maybe even guess what he’s saying, but there’s no reason to make it easy for her.

“You want me to tell him about the time loop stuff?” the grunt asks, also in Spanish. “Or you wanna share that yourself?”

It’s an impressive amount of insight for cannon fodder. Grant makes a mental note to learn the guy’s name.

“No,” he says, “keep that to yourself.”

“Yes, sir,” the grunt says, and leaves without saluting or hail Hydra-ing. Definitely someone worth getting to know.

“Okay,” Grant says, returning his attention to Simmons. “Let’s step back a minute. You expect me to believe I tried to kill myself?”

“No,” she says, scowling, “I expect you to believe you tried to make _us_ think you tried to kill yourself. It was, of course, all a ploy to gain our sympathy. Not that you got it.”

Okay, that he’ll buy. Eight months in a cell _would_ drive him to a desperate play like that—he’s never dealt well with confinement. That he couldn’t gain sympathy with a suicide play is worrying, though. Doesn’t say great things about the state of his relationship with the team.

“And Peterson killing John?” he asks. “The guy’d never risk his son—”

“We rescue him,” she interrupts. “Obviously.”

Yeah, right. “Cybertek’s security—”

“Is useless in the end,” she interrupts again. Rude. “Garrett undermines it.”

“Yeah?” he asks. “And why would he do that?”

“He loses his mind after taking the GH-325,” she says, tone grim enough to shake him. “Everyone does. Even Coulson, eventually—not that he _told_ us.” She rolls her eyes. “And you can imagine how comforting it is to learn that you’ve been taking orders from a man who’s carving up the walls every time you turn your back.”

He doesn’t like the sound of that. “Carving up the walls?”

She waves a dismissive hand. “Hypergraphia. It’s one of the symptoms. My point is, the GH-325 drives people insane. It will do the same to Garrett.”

It could be true. Or it could be an attempt to scare Grant into stopping John from taking the GH-325 and letting him die. As tactics go, it’s more ruthless than he’d expect from Simmons—but then, he wouldn’t expect her to be able to spin a lie like this, either.

Still. Time travel and time loops. Kind of hard to buy.

“You’ll doubt him, in the end,” she adds, possibly in response to his skeptical expression. “Your loyalty will win out, more’s the pity, but you’ll doubt him. So will Raina…and Ian Quinn. The difference is, they actually leave.” She frowns to herself. “We never did find Quinn—or the Gravitonium he took. And believe me, we searched.”

As Simmons—from what he can tell—sulks over that outstanding mystery, Grant goes back to weighing possibilities. It’s such a crazy story, delivered with such sincerity, he’s tempted to believe it. That she knows about Buddy, that she knows he’d pull a suicide play, even that she knows John considers attachments weakness—it’s all evidence in her favor.

There’s just one glaring question.

“Okay,” he says. “Say I believe you. Why tell me?”

Simmons laughs humorlessly.

“I have lived every _possible_ permutation of this day,” she says. “I have tried telling Fitz, I have tried _not_ telling Fitz, I have tried killing you, I have tried fully and completely cooperating with Garrett—up to and including offering him the names of the surviving participants of the original GH-325 trials. No matter what I do, it _always_ ends the same way: Fitz and I trapped in a metal box at the bottom of the ocean.”

Trapped—what? _How_?

Before he can ask, she tilts her chin up at him, face blank but eyes dark. “There’s just one thing I haven’t tried.”

“And what’s that?” he asks.

He tenses as she steps closer. He didn’t miss that mention of trying to kill him; the idea is laughable, but that doesn’t mean he’s gonna ignore the threat. If she tries anything—

Simmons doesn’t go for a weapon, though. Doesn’t go for his throat, either. She walks right up to him, close enough that her shoes bump against his, and fists her hands in his shirt.

“Winning you over,” she says, and yanks him down into a kiss.

It’s a damn good one, too. Not good enough to turn him against John—nothing could do that—but good enough that he’s gripping her hips and pulling her in even closer before he can think better of it. Her body is warm and soft against his—as soft as the kiss _isn’t_. It’s a biting, harsh thing, all of Simmons’ anger poured into it.

He’s not gonna lie, it’s a hell of a turn-on.

By the time it ends, they’re both breathless—and Simmons is weak-kneed, judging by the way she leans against him.

“Yeah?” he asks roughly. He doesn’t bother hiding his grin when she shivers. Time travel or no, _betrayal_ or no, it looks like that crush she’s been fighting since he jumped out of the Bus after her is still as strong as ever. “What if I win you over instead?”

She tips her head back to look up at him, all spite and disdain, but he can see the longing—the _want_ —underneath it all.

“You’re welcome to try,” she says condescendingly.

“You know what,” he says, “I think I will.”

This time, he kisses her…and all that fury melts right into need when he pins her against the wall of the shack.

Whether the time loop shit’s true or not, Grant thinks he’s gonna have fun with this.


End file.
